Mentalist Episode Tag: Blood for Blood, 3x14
by Donnamour1969
Summary: What Lisbon and Jane might have talked about on the ride home. One-shot episode tag. Spoilers,episode 3x14. Rated T for mild language. No copyright infringement intended.


A/N: Just a little tag, because I really would have liked to have heard their conversation on the way home.

Episode Tag: Blood for Blood

After they'd dropped Trina back home with her grateful aunt, Lisbon and Jane headed back to CBI headquarters in silence. Jane knew Lisbon was troubled by what she had done, that it would take her awhile to come to terms with the fact that she'd broken a law. A _big _law. Jane himself had no such qualms. This was in fact the way he lived his own life, such as it was. For him, justice had no bounds. Since his family had been murdered, he had a strong belief in the laws of the universe; not so much the laws of the State of California.

"I could lose my badge," Lisbon said after five minutes.

"Yes," Jane said, not even trying to conceal his gleeful smile.

"I let a killer go free."

"You let a little girl have a life, Lisbon. There's a difference."

Her hands gripped the steering wheel until her knuckles whitened, and, much to his surprise, he saw a tear slip down her creamy cheek.

"Pull over, Lisbon," Jane said, his smile disappearing. "You're overwrought, and I'll not have you driving in this condition."

As if on autopilot, she signaled and pulled into a roadside park. _This really must be bad if she isn't arguing with me._ She cut the engine and sat back in her seat, closing her eyes against the raw emotion she was feeling.

"Let's get out of the car," he ordered again. "You need some air."

Again, she automatically did what he said, and Jane came around to walk beside her to an empty picnic table in the shade. They sat, and Lisbon's hands came up to her face.

"That could have been me," she whispered, so softly that Jane had to lean in closer to hear her.

"You mean, that _should_ have been you, don't you? Trina did what you couldn't, and what you're feeling right now is envy, and a little guilt too, I suspect."

She put her hands down to look over at him in shock. "I don't feel guilty for not killing my father."

He took her hand, noting how it trembled in his, and looked into eyes that had gone bright green with tears. "You could have saved you and your brothers a lot of pain had you done it. I bet you thought about that a lot as he was beating the hell out of you. And it would have been totally justified, just like it was with Trina."

"No, it wouldn't. I'd have gone to a juvenile detention center, and who would have looked after my brothers then?"

"That would have been unfortunate, but at least the abuse would have stopped much sooner."

She shook her head. "The rest of us don't live in the same world you do, Jane. Laws are there—"

"For a reason? For our protection? Not to be broken? Sometimes, maybe, but you know deep down that's mostly bullshit."

She flushed angrily. "Are you discounting what we do here as officers of the law?"

He saw that she was pissed off at him, but he had to admit he liked that much better than seeing her cry.

He sighed. "Of course not. You do a lot of good. But you yourself have been known to cut corners when those same laws are unfair or are getting in the way of real justice. Today you made a big step toward understanding what I've been trying to tell you for years now."

"Don't you dare equate this with your thirst for vengeance, Jane. I did what I did to protect this girl, in the hope that she'll get help, like you said, and not become embittered by the juvenile justice system."

He looked at her intently, a hint of a familiar wildness clouding his features. "When I kill Red John, Lisbon, I'll be saving scores of girls from an even worse fate."

"Prison could do that too," she said, and they were back to their same old argument. Agitated, he let go of her hand and stood up.

"I guess I was wrong then. You've learned nothing from what you did today. You aren't seeing at all how what is right and what is legal can be two different things."

She watched his tense back as he turned away from her, looking sightlessly toward the walnut grove nearby. He ran a frustrated hand through his unruly curls, and Lisbon felt her attitude soften.

"I do know this," she said softly. "There are unfair laws out there, and laws that unnecessarily bind our hands. But I'd much rather live in a world with laws than one without. And if justice isn't done in _this_ life, if we make mistakes, then I have faith that God will sort it all out in the next."

His shoulders slumped in defeat. He could argue with her about the criminal justice system all day, but there was no way he could ever fight her religion. That crucifix she wore wasn't just a memento of her mother's; there was unspoken faith behind it. He sat back down beside her, a ghost of his earlier smile hovering around his lips.

"Way to win an argument, Lisbon, bringing out the big guns like that."

She knew he didn't believe in God, but for all that he did have a religion of sorts—it was the belief in justice at all costs. She reached for his hand. "We aren't so very different you know. We both want what is right. We just have different ideas about how to get there."

He squeezed her hand. "True. But I can still be proud of you for doing the right thing by Trina, despite what the law says. And you can be proud of yourself too, Lisbon. Unlike many of us, you'll be able to sleep tonight."

They looked into each other's eyes, a new understanding passing between them. They both knew that she had opened the door even wider into his universe, and, what's more, she'd left that door open. He wondered if she felt that he'd corrupted her; after all, it had been his idea to spare Trina the pain of so-called juvenile justice. But as he looked at her now, he didn't see condemnation or anger; he saw only commiseration and yes, understanding.

"You ready to head back?" he asked.

"Well, ready or not…" She smiled a little, and at her sniff, he belatedly brought out a white handkerchief, expensively monogrammed in one corner in blue: _PTJ_. It must be a remnant from his more flamboyant days. She couldn't remember ever seeing his middle name anywhere. Before she wiped at her eyes and nose, she looked at him curiously.

"What does the _T _stand for?"

"Huh?"he asked as they slowly walked back to the waiting SUV. She waved the handkerchief in front of him by way of explanation. "Oh, that. _T _stands for Trustworthy."

She laughed heartily, as he had hoped she would. "So, you're saying that _Trustworthy _is your middle name?"

"You doubt me, Lisbon?" he said, making his tone sound offended, while his blue eyes sparkled with mirth.

"Knowing you as well as I do, Patrick T. Jane, I'd say it's much more likely that it stands for _Trouble_."

"Trouble, eh?" He smiled into her eyes, then brought their still-joined hands up to gallantly kiss her knuckle. "I guess I can live with that."

A/N: I couldn't have this tag be _all _about the angst, could I? Hope you liked this enough to review. I'd love to hear your thoughts. Oh, and if you don't want to miss my little episode tags and one-shots, please click on the author alert button. I wouldn't want you to feel left out ;).


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